


Under Your Protection

by sandpaperblues



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF, Brienne is the Best, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, King's Landing, Marriage Proposal, Post - A Game of Thrones, Post-Quest, Queen Daenerys, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpaperblues/pseuds/sandpaperblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne is granted an audience with the new Queen of Westeros and she uses it to plead for Jaime Lannister’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Your Protection

Hours she waited in the Great Hall, listening to lord after lord filter through, swearing fealty to the new queen. These lords and ladies had been waiting outside the Red Keep for days, weeks even, while Brienne paced the floors inside, choosing her words carefully inside her head.

“Your Grace,” she heard Lord Blackwood intone as he stepped up to the Iron Throne. The usual platitudes spouted forth and again Brienne tuned them out while she waited.

Soon, the new queen promised, when time permits between lords, Brienne will get her audience. A day or two it would take at the most, she had said, but seven days had passed while she waited: one day for each of the Seven. Brienne prayed to each of them in turn and she knew she would need it.

In the hours before and after those she spent waiting in the Great Hall, she would be in the dungeons with Jaime. Even as the filth of the dungeons hung on him, he still looked like a god. “Any word of my brother?” he had asked that morning.

“None yet,” she’d replied.

A raven arrived from Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa not long after the verdict of Jaime’s trial. The new Warden of the North requested one last visit with his brother before the sentence was delivered. Brienne was grateful that they seemed to take their time on the King’s Road; it was only the new queen’s fondness of Lord Tyrion that kept the executioner’s blade at bay.

Jaime’s eyes had held hers. “I suppose that’s good news, right? The moment my brother walks through that door, I’m a dead man.”

“You shouldn’t think that way,” she said, her voice falling away.

“What a stupid thing to say, _wench_ ,” Jaime laughed in that careless manner of his, “You know it’s done.” His eyes dropped back to his golden hand. Absentmindedly, he rubbed at its palm as if for luck.

She had not told him of her intended audience with the queen; she knew he would protest. Such sorrow had hung in him ever since the moment Daenerys Targaryen first locked her eyes with his and called him so plainly and furtively, “The Kingslayer.”

Brienne recalled how he sighed heavily as if this was a moment he always knew awaited him. But she could not bring herself to believe that he had accepted this fate, not when she had watched him over the last year, so happy to be alive and free.

She recalled fondly the grin that spread across his face when she told him of her encounter with Lady Stoneheart. “Easy,” he laughed, “We bring her daughters back to her and she will have no choice but to believe us honest.” His easy optimism buoyed her like nothing else had.

A year of the two of them alone together making their way through wilderness and up mountains and across oceans made him so familiar to her that no matter what he said or how he looked, she knew he did not want to die.

“I’ll come back when the audiences with the queen are over for the day,” she had said, the scattered straw shuffling beneath her feet.

“Is there nothing else to do in King’s Landing these days?” he had forced a smile on her, “It hardly seems befitting a lady to spend so much time in the dungeons unnecessarily.”

Her eyes had met his again and his smile had faded. She didn’t have to say it, but he had known what she was thinking. _None of this is unnecessary_.

As Lord Blackwood finished his prattling on, he was just about to step back into the crowd when the doors at the end of the hall wheezed open. Several guards entered and Brienne recognized them from the furs that graced their collars as northern men.

Immediately, her heart leapt into her throat. _No_ , she thought, _no, no no! Not yet! I’ve not had my audience with the queen_.

One of the queen’s attendants announced them at the door. “Your Grace, Lady Sansa and Lord Tyrion Stark of Winterfell, the Wardeness and Warden of the North.”

Brienne watched in agony as Sansa and Tyrion made their way up the long stretch to the Iron Throne. In a flurry, some attendants rushed about to fit in chairs at the queen’s side, next to Lady Missandei and Lord Varys. Sansa’s eyes met with Brienne’s as she passed and she gave a smile, a nod, and quick curtsy. It was Lady Sansa’s advocation that had not only saved Brienne’s life but earned her this long-promised audience.

The crowd in the Great Hall had taken to barely masked whispers as the Starks of Winterfell greeted their queen. They spoke with her for a few moments and Brienne longed to know what was being said. As Sansa and Tyrion were seated, Daenerys rose to her feet and stepped forward to address the hall.

Brienne could feel her pulse pounding in her ears.

This was it. She would call now for Jaime’s death. And he had had no warning, she thought; she had left him only a few short hours ago, resting easy with the knowledge that another day had passed without his brother here.

But Daenerys Targaryen announced clearly and simply: “Brienne of Tarth.”

It took a moment for the words to make any sense. Daenerys looked around, her eyes falling easily on Brienne. She stood much taller than most. Clumsily, Brienne staggered from the crowd. As she made her way into the aisle, she bowed, “Your Grace.”

“Please come forward,” said the queen.

Brienne could hear her boots echoing throughout the Great Hall, all eyes on her, all whispers ceased. As she reached the front, where the other lords had stood to pay fealty, she dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “Your Grace,” she repeated.

“Please rise,” said Daenerys. As Brienne did so, the queen continued, “You have been promised an audience with me. I am now granting it. Please, state your concerns.”

“Your Grace,” Brienne began, her voice shaky. She glanced over to Sansa, who smiled politely at her, and to Tyrion, who leant forward in his seat. “I… I would request a pardon for… for Ser Jaime Lannister, the… the Kingslayer.”

A flurry of whispers passed through the crowd.

“The man who murdered my father?” the queen’s voice was cold, “Such a bold request to make.”

“I… I realize that, Your Grace. But, but the situation is far more complicated than most know. I know that to you Ser Jaime’s act is one past forgiveness, but I happen to know the context of the crime and I believe it warrants a pardon.”

“The Usurper already pardoned him once,” she snapped, “What could possibly make you think he deserves a second one?”

“Your Grace, Ser Jaime’s actions were not intended to end lives, but to save them,” with a deep breath, Brienne remembered Jaime, broken and despondent in the bathhouse of Harrenhal. How quiet and sincere his words were and how much they changed everything.

She told Daenerys the whole story as Jaime had related it to her, from the pyromancers to the screams of the Mad King.

But Daenerys did not want to believe it. “This sounds like the manner of nonsense that a man about to die would make up.”

“Your Grace, he told this to me several years ago, long before the War of the Five Kings was even over.”

“If this is all the evidence that you have, then I am afraid that I cannot grant you your request.”

“Your Grace,” a voice from the other side of Lady Sansa interrupted.

It was Lord Varys.

He cleared his throat with a calm smile and added politely, “I can corroborate Lady Brienne’s tale. For, as you know, I was in the court of King Aerys, and I can confirm that he did indeed have several pyromancers working with him. I was never fully privy to the extent of their work, but I am aware that they all perished under unclear circumstances in the days following King Aerys’s death.”

Lord Varys’s eyes met Brienne’s. “I can now only assume that it was by the Kingslayer’s hand, if he indeed was so intent on protecting the people of King’s Landing.”

Brienne smiled in earnest at the Spider. “It was by his hand, yes.”

Daenerys’s expression softened slightly as Varys continued, “I can also confirm that Ser Jaime not only aided in, but planned the escape of Lord Tyrion after he was wrongly convicted of the murder of Joffrey Baratheon.”

The queen turned to Tyrion. “My lord, are you able to confirm this?”

“It is true, Your Grace,” his voice was hoarse from either his travels or his worry, or both, “You know how much I care for my brother. I made the long trek down from Winterfell, in the middle of winter, just to see him one last time. I would be grateful if his life was spared. Jaime was not a perfect man, as many know, but most of his… erm, _faults_ are no different from those of your own ancestors, Your Grace.”

At this Brienne reddened and Daenerys raised an eyebrow.

“But he was the only one kind to me,” Tyrion’s voice broke slightly, “For most of my life.”

“I see,” said the queen softly. Her violet eyes drifted down to her lap for a moment, before rising again and meeting with Brienne’s. “Lady Brienne, how long have you been a companion of the Kingslayer?”

“We met under orders from Lady Catelyn Stark. He had been a prisoner of Robb Stark and I was to take him back to King’s Landing to trade him for Lady Catelyn’s daughters.”

“And did you succeed?”

“Eventually,” Brienne nodded towards Lady Sansa. “I witnessed Ser Jaime make a vow to Lady Catelyn to never take up arms against Tully or Stark. It is a vow I know that to this day he has upheld.”

Before she could elaborate further, Lady Sansa spoke up. “Your Grace, Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne rescued me from the captivity of Petyr Baelish. When I was rescued, they had already found my sister in Braavos. I can promise that Ser Jaime has never broken his vows to my mother.”

“I see,” said the queen. She inhaled in contemplation and Brienne waited anxiously for her to speak.

Brienne heard a shuffle of feet coming from behind her. From the assembly of lords, Lord Blackwood was making his way back towards the queen. “Your Grace, during the War of the Five Kings, my house was sworn to the Starks and we were held under siege by Lannister forces. The siege could easily have turn bloody, but when Ser Jaime arrived, he met with me peaceably and gave me generous terms of surrender.”

Daenerys frowned, “Generous?”

“Yes, Your Grace. He could have taken any or all of my children as a ward, but he took only my son, knowing that he would fare far better as hostage than my daughters. He also returned the bones of my other son to me, so we could give him a proper burial. All of these were terms he did not have to accept, Your Grace.”

“I agree,” Daenerys smiled at Lord Blackwood, “Those are generous terms.”

As Lord Blackwood bowed, a voice called out, anonymous in the crowd. “He did the same at Riverrun!” A few other voices murmured in assent.

“It seems Ser Jaime may have proved himself.” Daenerys moved her smile onto Brienne. “Lady Brienne, may I please speak quietly with you for a moment.”

Her cheeks flushing red, Brienne nodded awkwardly and stepped up towards the Iron Throne. She was all-too-aware that the eyes of Lord and Lady Stark, Lord Varys, and all of the queen’s attendants were upon her.

“Lady Brienne,” the queen spoke quietly, “I must ask what your true motivation is with regards to Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne looked askance to the Queensguard flanking her, Daario Naharis and Ser Jorah Mormont, and asked, “Do you not know good men who have done horrible things?”

Daenerys replied, “That is not what I asked. Jaime Lannister now seems to me a good man, whatever his past crimes. You are not the only one who thinks so. I only ask why you feel so strongly.”

“Your Grace, Ser Jaime saved my life. More than once. And he lost his hand in the process. It is a debt I need to repay.”

“How did he save your life?”

Biting her lips, Brienne told the story of their trip through the Riverlands towards King’s Landing: the story of Vargo Hoat and Jaime’s hand, of the lie about the Sapphire Isle, and of Roose Bolton. As she told the story of the bear pit, she could not help but grin to herself at the memory of Jaime’s jape: _I only rescue maidens_.

Daenerys gave her a sly smile in return, and, although their eyes only met briefly, Brienne knew the queen, as stern as she could be, understood implicitly the depth of her feelings.

At the end of it, Daenerys nodded. “I agree that Ser Jaime should not be put to death. And what else would you have me do for him? I cannot permit him back on the Queensguard. And the west is flourishing under Lord Tommen’s tenure at Casterley Rock. It would be unwise to change that.”

“Quite right, Your Grace. And I do not believe that Jaime would wish to rule anywhere. All I ask for is his life.”

“And what do you plan to do from here, Lady Brienne? Do you plan to return to Tarth?”

“To be honest, Your Grace, I have not given much thought past this audience.”

“I understand,” replied the queen, “I will release him, but he shall be your responsibility. If you return to Tarth, he shall go with you. If you visit Winterfell, Ser Jaime shall accompany you.” The queen’s violet eyes met hers and Daenerys gave her a wry smile. _Just what did she surmise_ , wondered Brienne? “Does this arrangement suit you, Lady Brienne?”

“Very much so, Your Grace,” Brienne bowed.

“I am glad to hear it,” Daenerys said again, almost playfully, “But I very much would like to hear you tell me the honest reason why you have gone through so much trouble.”

Brienne reddened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

Brienne did not want to disappoint the queen, not after she had already granted her more than she thought possible. “I…I…” the words staggered over her tongue. She thought of how much she and Jaime endured at each other’s side, from bears to Goats to the Titan of Braavos and back again. So many treacherous things and here she was, afraid of something so trifling as words spoken aloud. It was a silly thing to fear, she knew.

Steeling her courage, Brienne spoke clearly, make the words her own armour, armour that would have been beautiful and blue and made just for her: “I love him, Your Grace.” It seemed such a simple statement as soon as it was past her lips. So simple and so earnest.

“That is a lovely thing to hear,” said the queen, “Such easy words but so hard to say, don’t you find?”

Brienne could only nod.

The queen spoke again, her voice raising again to the needs of the Great Hall. She rose from the Iron Throne and addressed the lords assembled. “I thank you all for your honesty and take to great heart the statements you have made on behalf of Ser Jaime. Although no lands, and thus no name, can be reinstated to him, his life shall be spared and he will fall under the protection of Lady Brienne of Tarth.”

* * *

Brienne paced her chambers. An hour had passed and she had yet to hear word of Jaime’s release. By the time she made it out of the Great Hall following her audience with the queen, he was already gone from the dungeons.

Not knowing what else to do, she simply waited.

Someone would come for her, would they not? The entire Great Hall heard Daenerys’s proclamation: Jaime was to be under her protection from now on.

Perhaps he was horrified by the idea, she thought suddenly. Perhaps Varys or even Tyrion helped him escape. Perhaps exile in Essos was preferable to a lifetime shackled to her. Perhaps the last year spent in her company had been more than enough for him.

Scenarios appeared in her mind, each one more outlandish than the last, of why Jaime would want to escape her and how he would do it.

But then, suddenly a knock came at the door. Even though she had been expecting this—what else would happen?—she jumped.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice wavering.

The door edged open and there, framed in the stone, was Jaime. The filth of the dungeons remained, but he’d found a fresh set of clothes. His blue doublet was not the red leather jacket she’d found herself thinking idly of from time to time, but it still became him.

“Ser Jaime,” she stuttered, “You’re free.”

“ _Lady_ Brienne,” he mimicked, “I am. Because of you.”

“I went to the dungeons as soon as I could, but you were already gone. I feared—”

“What? That I’d run out on you?” he chuckled, “No. Of course not. My brother escorted the guards to have me released. Until he explained everything, I was terrified to see him. I could only assume I was to be marched to my death. But alas, he told me I was free to go…” his eyes twinkled as he added, “… more or less. I had asked where you were right away, but he gave a horribly cryptic smile and insisted I bathe before he told me the finer points. I refused to bathe but he gave me fresh clothes.”

Jaime stepped into the room. “I must express my gratitude, Brienne. Tyrion told me all of your audience with the queen.”

“He told you _all_ of it?”

“Everything.”

Jaime’s lips curled into a grin and Brienne immediately remembered how Tyrion was sitting near as the queen made her private inquiries. As he stepped up closer to her, Jaime asked with laughter in his voice, “So I am to be in your care from now on, for the rest of my life?”

Brienne could feel her heart pounding; she did not want him to believe that it was she who requested that specific term. “That was what the queen decreed. It was her stipulation. I only requested your life be spared.”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice lowering. “ _Under your protection_. Sounds a little like a marriage vow, doesn’t it? I’m even to give up the name Lannister. I suppose that is the easiest way to get rid of us Lannister men. A simple name change. No bodies to burn. Quite skillful manipulation on behalf of Queen Daenerys. No more Lannisters; only Tommen Tyrell, Tyrion Stark and now Jaime… what, _of Tarth_ , I suppose?”

She blushed. “You needn’t go to that extreme.”

But he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve not even been to Tarth. I suppose you shall have to take me. What are the Tarth colours? Will they suit me?”

“Jaime—”

“What?” he grinned, “We are to be married, are we not? Is that not the implication of this arrangement? That is how it was relayed to me.”

“What? No, of course not….” She trailed off as she mentally revisited her conversation with the queen. Had that been the queen’s intent?

“Ah,” Jaime bit his lip, “You think I do not want this.”

“Jaime, I owe you my life. And now I have helped you save yours.”

“You didn’t just _help_ ; you _saved me_ , Brienne,” a grin broke widely across his face, “Were it not for you, I would shortly be meeting with the blade of an Essos sellsword.”

“All I did was relay to the queen actions and deeds of yours that were true and honourable. I did not tell a single lie. Others spoke for you as well—”

His grin did not fade. “Spurred on by _you_.”

“Jaime,” she cut him off tersely, “You are not required to marry me!”

“Have I been misled?” His grin dropped. “Do you not wish to marry me?”

She could not look at him for a moment longer. As she spun away from him, her cheeks reddened, setting her freckles alight. What could she possibly say to him? Over these last few weeks, as she turned over the seeming eventuality of Jaime’s death, she found herself fabricating all manners of fantasy: elaborate imagined futures where somehow he survived.

In an increasing number of these imagined futures, they were married. Before long, in every single one of these imagined futures, they were married. In some they were living on Tarth, in others King’s Landing. In many they were simply travelling, just as they had done before, only travelling through a land of peace, not of war.

In each of these imagined worlds, Jaime was a willing husband. In none of them was he marrying her out of duty or debt.

“Jaime, you know how it has been for me with suitors. You know the dowries my father offered. You know about the bets and the bribes and all of that.” She stared at the floor as she spoke; it grew hazy as her eyes filled with tears. “You know I could not possibly marry someone who did not truly want to be married to me.”

“And you know that Ronnet Connington lost half his teeth because of that. Brienne,” She felt his hand on her arm. Gently, he pulled her back around to face him. “Please look at me.”

“Please don’t laugh at me.” Quickly wiping away tears, she lifted her head to look at him. But she reckoned she had never seen Jaime look so serious.

“Brienne,” he said softly, “My lady. I will say the words and I will wear your cloak. And I will do it not because you saved me today but because you saved me so, _so_ long ago. I had given up on the idea of true and noble knights, but you proved me wrong. You were—you are—the most perfect knight to ever exist and you forced me to be once again the good man I had given up on trying to be.”

“You do not owe me anything, Jaime. Least of all your hand in marriage.”

“ _Stubborn, stupid wench_ ,” he said playfully as he slid his hand down her arm and curled his fingers into hers, “Tyrion told me what you said to the queen. It’s not a matter of owing you anything.”

Her eyes fell onto his hand curled up in hers. Her heart beat so strongly she could feel it throughout her entire body. Her voice was barely even a whisper: “What did he tell you?”

His hand let go of hers and moved up to her chin. Carefully he lifted her face so their eyes met. “Brienne,” it sounded like such a simple statement, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met hers.

Brienne hardly knew what to do. Jaime’s hand gently stroked her cheek but she could barely move. She had not truly kissed anyone before.

But he did not seem to mind. Their lips parted and he murmured gently, “Please marry me, Brienne. Today, soon— _now_.”

She pulled away slightly to look him in the eyes, “Perhaps you should bathe first.”

He scoffed, “And why would I do that?”

“You should be clean for your marriage,” she laughed.

“I was hoping you would join me.” As he clasped his arms around her, he grinned, “Oh, I do love it when you turn red like that.”

“Is that why you refused to bathe before you came to see me?”

“I confess it is. I am fond of tradition. What do you say, my wench?”

Linking her arm behind his neck, Brienne laughed, “I suppose all traditions must start somewhere.” She kissed him again, firmly and deeply.

As she broke away, she grabbed him by his golden hand. “Come, let us find a Septon.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
